


The Tides

by Chipper_Daily



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Angst, Angst and Porn, Child Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Mute Link, OC's abound, ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 00:42:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15425250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chipper_Daily/pseuds/Chipper_Daily
Summary: They say the dead cannot rest under the Blood Moon.





	The Tides

\---

_ Vore jag ett blad _

_ Flöt jag med till dödsskuggans dal _

_ Blott för att utav dig få en skymt _

_ Undrar om du rymt _

\---

 

       The Story of the Hero was destined to end where it had begun.

The final words of the grinning Monk echoed solemnly through the shrine, both silent and deep as a temple bell.

Images of his childhood home and the faces of his birth parents, blurred with age, briefly wafted to the forefront of his mind before being promptly dismissed. A Story was a thing of symbolism and significance. It’s beginning would not be so obvious.

Link nodded slightly to himself as the withered remains of the sheikah dissipated into a delicate flow of gentle light, their sacred duty bestowed by the ancient Goddess finally fulfilled. He bit back the urge to grin as he turned away from the altar and flipped his fur lined hood back up over his pointed ears. The final riddle was easier than the rest.

The faint memory of the wood pile by the hearth and a bare table with three empty chairs, that was the Story of  _ Link _ .

The Story of the  _ Hero _  began in the forest.

\---

They say the dead cannot rest under the Blood Moon. That every four years at it’s insidious peak it would summon the flesh and bones of the impure to dance in it’s unholy light. 

One last lingering gift from the King of Evil- or so the story goes.

Link had heard countless tales surrounding the legend, mostly whispered in the barracks to scare new recruits after curfew. Very few (if any) of the soldiers born and raised in Castle Town or the surrounding fields truly  _ believed  _ it though. The Blood Moon was a strange quadrennial event that, at its worst, spooked livestock and stirred nightmares in small children. For the most part rumors of the Blood Moon’s dark resurrections were laughed off, and the men who viewed themselves as educated and civilized would return to their bunks to sleep unbothered. Certain in their superiority over the simple minded, superstitious yokels that feared the Longest Night.

But there were always a handful of knights who would remain quiet while the others laughed and teased as they shared their cheap beer around the fire pits. Those who had either grown in the shadow of the Cursed Mount or had spent enough time where the world was colder, wilder- closer to the Beasts. Their eyes would meet while the city folk scoffed and they would  _ know _ , but say nothing. 

Link knew, from the years he had spent with his adoptive family in Hateno, how thorough the townsfolk had been. How even their animals had been burned after death, how deep the ashes had been buried. How the whole town locked the doors and barred the windows and snuffed the lights as the unblinking, burning eye of the the Blood Moon crested the peak of Mount Lanayru.

Link  _ knew _ , but even if he could speak he would say nothing.

Some things were better left unsaid.

There was one uncontested truth though- the monsters that plagued the land grew bolder in the weeks preceding and following the Blood Moon. Many ventured down from their reclusive encampments deep in the wilds to harass the villages and trade routes close to the edges of the mountains and woods. It was his seemingly inborn talent in dealing with these twisted creatures that garnered Link the bulk of his impressive reputation. The rest was built upon the legendary sword strapped to his back, the whispered rumors of his childhood, and the speculation surrounding the root of his silence.

The Hero, the saviour, the symbol of hope and peace and light for all.

More myth than man.

It was the myth that was summoned to kneel before the King of once-mighty Hyrule. It was Link’s reputation his sovereign wished to flaunt, to show the surrounding kingdoms that Hyrule was still strong, that united they would  _ remain _ strong, even as it seemed their world crumbled around them.

Reports had floated into the capital. A dragon- huge, indomitable, and completely consumed by Malice- had been seen circling the peak of Mount Lanayru.

An excellent opportunity to show the surrounding kingdoms that their Heroes had not abandoned them.

A pleasant surprise. That was exactly where Link had already intended to head next. With the king’s blessing, even easier. Now he wouldn’t have to worry about trying to dodge his fellow knights when they inevitably came to hunt him down after he disappeared and ignored his sovereign’s summons to return.

He would thank his lucky stars but Link wasn’t naive enough to believe in coincidence.

\---

Snow crunched under his boots, a thin layer of crisp ice having formed on top from being constantly warmed and cooled in the early spring sun. His breath fogged in the brisk air as he took stock of his surroundings. The dusty pink and orange light of dawn filtered through the bare trees, making the snow sparkle in it’s dim, hazy glow. An unnatural stillness hung in the ancient air, no tracks but his own marring the snow around his campsite. Link took a moment to stretch, old scars and healed breaks protesting in the endless cold. It had been a long, long time since he had last set foot in the woods that coiled around Mount Lanayru. He hadn’t dared for just shy of 20 years. Now though, after countless trials to prove his worth and steel his valour and forge himself anew, now the time had come to finally return. To set things right as he had once promised.

A Knight in Shining Armor, as enshrined in the Tales of Old.

He felt the ghostly wisp of a faded memory, gentle fingers tipped with cruel claws carefully combing through soft blond hair.

_        If your noble heart remains true _

Lips, as violent red as blood and cold, so  _ cold _ , chastely pressing against his hairline.

_        Return to me then, brave Hero _

Link fished some jerky from his bag and chewed it thoughtfully as he checked his location on the slate. It took only a moment to position himself and, with no grander flare than a soft huff, he was off, trudging through the snow once more. The simple lean-to he had huddled under the previous night and smouldering ashes of his campfire abandoned without so much as a second glance. 

His Story was finally coming to its end.

The time had come for the Hero to save the Princess.

\---

       “It says he was sent by the King-”

       “The  _ hylian _  king.” A shrewd golden eye flicked up from the thick parchment to level a cold look at the acolyte, effectively cutting the young eel zora off mid-sentence. “I may only have one eye, but I can still  _ read,  _ Oras.” The unfortunate acolyte wilted beneath the sharp tone of the temple prior.

       “Forgive me, sir.” The acolyte, Oras, muttered. Link clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering, eyes locked to the way the thin layer of ice cold water distorted the pattern of the stone floor at the feet of the Goddess statue. He knelt respectfully while he waited to be called upon by the elderly priest. Not that he’d even been acknowledged yet. The prior hummed dismissively with the sharp snap of the parchment being closed.

       “It is a zora matter, and will be dealt with by the zora.” The elderly priest continued without missing a beat. Oras squawked and fumbled with the scroll that had been briskly thrust back into his hands as the elder turned away from the pair. “There is no need for  _ outsiders  _ to involve themselves.” He spat over he shoulder.

While Link had heard some less than favourable rumors about how haughty the zora were he hadn’t had any reason to believe the claims. Few had any real experience with the notoriously reclusive amphibious race and even he, despite having spent a good chunk of his life in Hateno, was no exception. They tended not to stray far from their hidden kingdom, typically only found selling their catch to the local Castle Town merchants in the early morning before the market square was open to the general public. They didn’t linger long and usually kept to themselves, but the handful of understandably brief interactions he’d had with them had been fairly pleasant, or at least not actively awful.

Until now.

       “But sir,” Oras squeaked as he stumbled haltingly forward. “He has the Sword-!”

The prior stopped in his tracks, paused to seemingly gather his thoughts, then turned slowly to stare down the hylian.

       “Rise, young one, and draw your weapon.”

Link stood and withdrew the Master Sword in one smooth movement, the legendary blade seeming to reflect more silver light than what was produced by the low hanging moon. The old priest reached out tentatively, his fingers hovering over the unblemished steel before flinching back and curling into a fist. Link swallowed down a smug grin, keeping his face carefully neutral as the elder’s clever golden eye flicked up to meet his. Apparently the rumors of what happened when one that was deemed unworthy tried to touch the Blade of Evil’s Bane had spread to even this remote shrine. 

       “What is your name, hylian?”

       “Ah- sir? The scroll said-”

       “The boy can speak for himself, Oras.” The prior spoke sternly over the acolyte’s interjection, his intense, probing eye not so much as flicking away from the hylian Champion’s. 

Link met his gaze evenly as he purposefully resheathed the Master Sword. With his hand freed he slowly signed  _ -L I N K-.  _ A look of confusion swept over the elderly zora’s features as Oras awkwardly cleared his throat.

       “Actually, sir, he cannot.”

The elder eyed Link skeptically as he drew back slowly, both hands folding behind his bent back.

       “Curious.” He huffed softly before his gaze snapped to the young acolyte. “Take him to the mess hall and get something to warm him up. Some soup if there’s any left. I will discuss this further with the abbot.” He held out his hand for the scroll. Oras passed it over with palpable relief. The elder priest turned his attention back to Link. “I am Jitto, son of Jovon, if you require anything further don’t hesitate to call upon me.” He tipped his head in a slight bow before turning away and sending the two off with a dismissive wave. “It has been… interesting to meet you, young one.”

\---

No one knew how old the Spring of Wisdom was, or who had built either it or the cold stone temple hewn into the mountainside to guard it. Though not the original architects, for ages untold the zora had been the caretakers of the isolated shrine dedicated to their patron Goddess, Nayru. Since before the Calamity, before the Blood Moon cursed the mountain, when spring still blossomed and Dinraal still blessed the harvest.

Link had known about the temple, of course. Once a year (excluding the 4th year of the Blood Moon) a couple of excitable acolytes would make a trip down the mountain to Hateno Village for supplies. Just small, simple things, like cloth, wax, and twine, but Link could remember how they’d gawk and gush at the quaint hylian homes, tilled fields, and docile livestock. It was something he hadn’t really understood until the first time he visited Rito Village many years later, when he’d been startled out of his stupor by a local barking at him to move out of the middle of the stairwell if he was just going to stand with his head tilted back and mouth hanging open. The young zora stuck together, never made a nuisance of themselves, and were good for the local businesses, so the Hateno locals just learned to put up with the occasional gawping.

So even if he hadn’t been able to use his adoptive aunt’s telescope to search the side of the Cursed Mount until he found the towering ice spires erupting from the top of the temple, he very well could have found a way to ask one of the acolytes to point him in the right direction. Unlike Zora’s Domain, the Spring of Wisdom was open to all.

As long as they were over the age of 17.

Which seemed to be a bit of an in-joke among the zora for some reason?

\---

Link jerked awake, popping up onto one elbow on the long stone bench and reaching for his sword with the other while he blearily looked for what had awoken him so suddenly. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light he finally noticed Oras waving from the tall, narrow entrance leading into the dining hall. The creamy white of his stomach popped in the dim candle light while the deep green of his scales and rich blue of the wide sash that marked him an acolyte blended into the darkness beyond the doorway. 

       “Sorry to wake you, mister Link,” He cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify the same exaggerated whisper that had woken the hylian in the first place. “The abbot has given you permission to stay! Well, until the dragon issue is dealt with at least... Poor Naydra, you’ll be able to save Her, right?” Oras nibbled his lip and wrung his hands, clearly lost in thought. He blinked suddenly and bolted up straight. “Ah! Um, I’m here to take you to your room- do you need help carrying anything?”

Link shook his head and groaned as he sat up, his blanket pooling in his lap and his spine popping the whole way up. Ow. He stretched and rolled his bad shoulder a few times. Perhaps taking a nap on the stone bench hadn’t been his best idea. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep. The hall was as empty as it had been when Oras had first lead him there and managed to scrounge up a bit of salt grilled fish and lukewarm rice for him to eat.

It wasn’t long until Oras was leading him through a labyrinth of narrow hallways, the high walls stretching beyond the golden glow of the candles into utter darkness above. The temple went much deeper into the mountainside then Link had originally assumed. They passed several unmarked doors and empty intersections on their winding walk, but they encountered no other people. Link found himself wondering if there  _ was  _ anyone here but Oras, Jitto, and the mysterious abbot.

The green zora stopped suddenly in front of a rather plain looking wooden door with what looked like a pile of white sheets set on the ground beside it. It seemed a bit out of place among the imposing stone doors they had passed to get here, and it suddenly occurred to him that this door had been replaced. Not many people could heft around solid slabs of granite. Gorons and maybe gerudo would probably be able to manage, but beyond that… Come to think of it, could his petite guide open any of the doors in the temple, in his  _ home, _ on his own?

Oras untied a brass ring of old tarnished keys from around his neck and riffled through them until he found a small silver key. He gave Link a lopsided grin as he jangled the key in the lock until there was a click, then bumped his shoulder against the door and it swung open with a low creak.

       “Ta-daaa-uh, one second,” Oras leaned back from the pitch black mouth and quickly looked back and forth down the hall. He grabbed the closest candle from a nearby sconce and walked into the room. Link peeked his head around the door after him. The young acolyte pulled back from lighting one of the candles on the wall to greet him. “Ta- _ DA!  _ It’s the guest room! We haven’t used this since I’ve been here, so it’s kind of a big deal.”

Link gave him a skeptical look. Oras looked like he was just barely old enough to even be able to attend to the Spring of Wisdom. Even counting the tip of his elongated dorsal fin the youth only stood as tall as Link’s nose and, frankly, he was on the short side for a hylian. 

Oras didn’t notice. He had already skipped outside, humming a soft tune, to grab what turned out to indeed be bedsheets. Link quickly surveyed the neglected room. Oras hadn’t been kidding when he referred to it as the ‘guest room’- there were 6 stone bunk bed cavities carved into the right wall, two stone tables and a blackened fireplace carved into the left. No chairs or firewood remained, but what the place lacked in furniture it certainly made up for in  _ cobwebs. _

Oras leaned down and blew a cloud of dust off the table closest to the door and reeled back to cough. He shot Link a sheepish look once he managed to get himself under control and weakly plunked the sheets onto the table.

       “Sorry, we really don’t get a lot of guests…”

Link gave him the flattest  _ ‘You don’t say’  _ look he could muster. He rolled his eyes and ripped back the dusty privacy curtain covering the nearest bunk cavity.

He almost choked on the musty smell of mildew.

Oras quickly scampered over to check up and down the hallway before shutting the door and turning back to Link with a guilty look.

       “A little, um, a little frog told me that you should use the top bunk on the far end. It’s a bit cleaner, a bit less of a… spider town.”

Link rubbed the dust off his hand onto his pants and tilted his head quizzically at the young zora. Oras fidgeted under his gaze.

       “I… Sometimes I hide in here to read… instead of… clean the mess hall... “ He finished lamely. “Don’t tell master Jitto! He’ll  _ fillet  _ me!”

\---

Link plunked the head of the hefty woodcutter’s axe on the ground and leaned on it with a heavy sigh, his breath fogging in the crisp air as he ran his gloved hand through his hair. He was sweating- that was bad. He supposed he didn’t have far to trek through the snow to get back to the Spring of Wisdom. Still. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to take a breather. 

The previous night had not been the most… comfortable experience of his life. He had spent half the night after Jitto had come to collect Oras and escort him back to his room- something about being past curfew- using a wadded up shirt and the heel of his boot to try and clear the webs, and their inhabitants, out of what was supposed to be his bed. Once he had settled into the small nook and stopped moving around he spent the rest of the evening too cold to sleep. 

He had been surprised at just how many zora were actually gathered in the dining hall for breakfast that morning, considering how empty the halls had been the previous night. He guessed around 20-ish, give or take a couple. Plenty more then he had first suspected, but clearly not nearly as many as what the massive hall had originally been carved to hold.

Being gawked at was not unusual for the bearer of the Sword that Seals the Darkness, but experience didn’t make the sensation anything close to pleasant. Now especially he could  _ feel _  the conversation die off as multiple sets of piercing golden eyes turned to bore into him once he entered the hall. Oras shyly waved from the furthest occupied table and he waved back with a small smile, much to the surprise of the two other young zora that sat with him.

Jitto sat at the other end of the hall closest to the merrily crackling grand hearth with five other elderly zora and what appeared to be two guards on either end of the table. Link didn’t miss their subtle shift in stance, the guard’s bright eyes alert and grip tightening on their spears.

Link couldn’t imagine why they didn’t get many guests.

When he asked Jitto for some firewood the old priest sent Oras to fetch him an axe instead. Prick.

Oras had shot Link an apologetic look as he led the hylian to the entrance, and muttered softly that he was sure it would be fine if Link traded the freshly chopped wood for some of their dry supply. He just had to make sure to come talk to either him or one of the two young acolytes that had been sitting with him at breakfast. As long as he was replacing what he was taking he didn’t think anyone would complain. 

He seemed like a good kid. Link decided he liked him.

\---

       “ _ Princess? _ ” Litha echoed Oras’ incredulous cry, her attention snapped up from Link’s book to give the hylian a bewildered look. Oras’ gaze flicked from where Link had scrawled his inquiry on the glowing screen of his slate, the harsh, artificial glow strikingly out of place next to the crackling gold fire in the guest room hearth. The young acolyte’s eyes met, Link’s attentive gaze bouncing between the two of them, his throat burning with questions his mouth couldn’t shape.

       “Sorry, not to sound strange, it’s just surprising you know about her... “ Oras rubbed the back of his neck.

       “How  _ do  _ you know about her?” Litha, another young acolyte, eyed him suspiciously. This was Link’s first time meeting her, the charcoal grey zora had tagged along with Oras to help clean the guest room. Thus far she hadn’t done much beyond trying to paw through his belongings, fawn over the Master Sword, and flip through the couple of books he’d brought with him. Link’s blood ran cold- was he not supposed to know about the princess? Did the zora keep even their royalty a secret? He was halfway through clearing the screen to clarify that he’d  _ met  _ her, she had been the one to lay his Destiny out for him, before Litha continued. “I didn’t think they’d release any announcements to the Outside until after her Name Day.”

       “Maybe they sent out the official announcement early cause she’s a princess?” Oras shrugged. “The King’s been trying for an heir for an awfully long time, maybe they’re just excited and getting a bit… ahead of themselves?”

       “They wouldn’t.” Litha hissed and clapped Link’s book closed with a sharp snap. “It’s bad luck to make a birth announcement before she has a name. Considering how long they’ve been trying I doubt they’d tempt fate like that.”

       “Well, they sent word to  _ us _  before her name day.”

       “That’s  _ different. _ ”

Link’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The princess was… she hadn’t even been named yet? But she had told him her name on the side of the mountain all those years ago?

Had he been lied to? (Had he done all of this for a someone’s sad delusion? A sick  _ joke?  _ For  _ nothing?) _

No, no, he remembered the soft glow of her palm as she gently laid her cool hand over his swollen, bruised ankle. That kind of power was only found in the women of the zora royal line- the sacred gift of healing bestowed upon their princesses and queens as a reward for fulfilling their ancient, hallowed duty of appeasing the Divine Beast.

Was she perhaps an illegitimate heir? The consequence of a shameful affair that was shipped off to be forgotten in a distant shrine? But why would she have been given the Beast’s blessing in that case? Ugh.  _ Politics. _

He supposed he should have expected this to be more complicated.

He quickly jotted down  _ -Rumor-  _ and showed it to the two zora, Oras making a quick  _ “Ah”  _ of acceptance and Litha a skeptical  _ “Hm”.  _ Link didn’t bother trying to elaborate, instead clearing his slate to quickly scrawl across the surface with his fingertip. Apparently the first part of freeing the princess would be finding her.

_        -Is there a library?- _

Perhaps they would have some sort of record there.

\---

       “Shhh, young master, shhh…” Nanny gently hushed his excited chatter as she combed her gnarled fingers through his hair, a half hearted attempt to fix the child’s unruly bedhead, before settling on planting a soft kiss on the top of his head. “Don’t go waking your parents. Why don’t you take Teddy and sit by the fire? Old nanny will come play with you once I’ve finished preparing breakfast.”

Link nodded and held out his stuffed bear. The elderly sheikah chuckled softly and ruffled his hair before leaning down to press a quick kiss on the top of the bear’s head too.

If he was quiet and well behaved perhaps mother would take him to see the horses again today.

\---

Link tore into a chunk of stale bread and glared up into the darkening sky. Oras had told him he was welcome to join them in the mess hall for the evening meal, but frankly he was too annoyed with Jitto and the rest of the small council of elder priests to even look at them, let alone spend an evening anywhere near them.

Of course they had a library- Link just wasn’t allowed in it.

Outsiders  _ this,  _ Outsiders  _ that, _  sweet Hylia lend him  _ patience.  _ (Because if She granted him strength that smug, wrinkled cyclops probably wouldn’t survive their next encounter.)

Oras had tried to soften the blow, as usual, with the promise that he’d talk to the Librarian to see if she would be willing to bend the rules a bit since Link was here to help them. He had went on to elaborate that even the acolytes weren’t allowed in without the Librarian’s supervision. Link certainly had a strong suspicion that, even with permission, having one of the elders hovering over his shoulder would be the opposite of helpful.

He shifted his weight to make sure his leg didn’t fall asleep and flexed his fingers around the grip of his ancient bow as he scanned the evening sky from his vantage point. On top of everything else he hadn’t seen so much as a scale from the infected dragon.

It had only been a couple of days and he felt like he was already running into a wall.

\---

It was a bit shameful to admit, but he didn’t remember much about his birth mother. She was beautiful, he could vaguely remember smoothing his small hands down the soft silks of her impressive wardrobe during the few times he was allowed in her dressing room. It seemed she had a dress in every colour he could imagine and gleaming jewelry to match (that he was strictly never allowed to touch). Her perfume had hung heavy in the air, robust fig and cloying florals, and she would hum sweetly while she painted her lips as red as blood. She was very busy, far too busy to spend much time with him, but she would let him play with her empty perfume bottles. He would fill them with water under his nanny’s watchful eye and hold them up high to watch the sunlight sparkle through the rose tinted glass.

She couldn’t stand being embarrassed, even less so in public, so she didn’t bring him with her very often, but when he was allowed watch her at the stable she was nothing short of magic. Their mutual passion for horse husbandry is what had brought his parents together in the first place. As long as he kept out of the way and stayed quiet he could watch to his heart's content.

He remembered she would praise him for being well behaved, would sometimes spoil him with a gooey fresh honeycomb and his poor nanny would inevitably wind up having to scrub honey out of his hair later in the evening. He remembered how hard she would pinch the back of his arm when he spoke, how she would lock herself in her dressing room when she was angry with him or his father.

He remembered it took her three miserable days to die.

\---

While the events of his early childhood were unknown (and if he had his way that’s how it would remain), the people of Hateno were quick to remind the rest of Hyrule that the Hero of Legend had been raised in their sleepy little village.

For the most part he didn’t mind, sometimes it grated on him a bit though. Sometimes he wished he could remind them that they hadn’t been  _ that  _ magnanimous when he had first stumbled into their midst as a child. Really, only two of them had initially accepted him- an eccentric elderly sheikah woman and her assistant who were already outcasts from the rest of the town. As he recalled it, the rest had tried to drive him off with stones and the sharpened points of their pitchforks.

He supposed he couldn’t really blame them for their mistrust. He had been a silent stranger, grossly underdressed for the bitter weather yet seemingly unaffected by it, plodding barefoot through the snow from the base of the Cursed Mount in the early dawn after the Blood Moon. Stranger things had crept down from the summit of Lanayru before, the townsfolk knew better then to trust.

They had no way to know whether or not he was actually a hylian beneath his skin.

\---

On the bright side he’d figured out a way to open doors on his own. On the downside it wasn’t exactly stealthy.

It had only taken four days since he’d struck up his informal agreement with Oras before someone had closed the massive, black stone doors leading into the storage room where the dried wood was stacked. Link pinched his lips in frustration as he hugged his wet, freshly cut bundle tighter to his chest. So much for no one complaining. It felt like the zora here were actively  _ trying _  to drive him off.

Well, that wasn’t fair- not  _ all  _ of them were. Oras pushed futility against the unrelenting stone with an indignant little grunt before turning to give Link a helpless look.

       “I’m sorry, mister Link, I don’t- I don’t know why they would close up? These are usually even left open after curfew. I’ll see if I can find… I think Mola can open the doors? I’m so sorry, this hasn’t happened before.”

The small eel zora had become Link’s go-to over the past few days. He seemed like the only one here who knew the ins and outs of this place that didn’t explicitly want to keep their secrets  _ in  _ and Link  _ out.  _ Even the other two younger acolytes were iffy around him. Litha seemed to think he was some sort of spy, and the other- he thought her name was Mekon?- was as jittery as a mouse around him. The rest of the zora mostly tried to avoid him altogether, or were just short of being openly hostile towards him (mostly Jitto, though he’d had a couple run ins with the guards over eating in the dining hall).

Frankly Link wouldn’t care, but it was starting to affect poor Oras.

He wordlessly held out the bundle for the young acolyte to take. Once his hands were free he pulled out his slate and motioned for the zora to step back.

He wound up breaking the old woodcutter’s axe on the door, but his Stasis Rune worked it’s charm and the huge granite slab blew open with an explosive bang that had Oras dropping the green wood to the ground with a frightened cry.

No one closed the storage room doors after that.

\---

It had startled him, the shadowed silhouette hobbling across his darkened room towards his bed. He had bolted upright with a frightened gasp, the initial terror melting away to relief, then confusion, with the familiar voice of his nanny shushing him. She never came to wake him before the sun had risen.

He was too young to understand, but he knew something was wrong. Something was off in the tone of her voice, in the subtle tremble of the warm, wrinkled hands that gently lay him back down in his bed and tenderly tucked his blankets up to his chin. She had crouched down low, swallowing thickly, and hugged him close.

       “You’re a good boy, master Link, such a brave, sweet boy. Always remember nanny loves you.” She placed a firm kiss on his temple, her voice thick with unknown emotion. “I need you to remember something for me, can you do that, little one? Promise me that if you’re ever in trouble, or scared you’re going to be, you’ll come to nanny’s house as fast as you can- it doesn’t matter when or what time it is, I will always take care of you.”

She had told him how to find her humble home through the winding streets and narrow alleys on the outskirts of Castle Town, deep in the dingy district of the serving class. She had told him, slow and even, made him promise he’d remember the way. But he had been so young and the reality of his situation had seemed so far away, tucked snug in bed in the home where he’d been born with the woman who had swaddled and comforted him in those first moments of life, who had nurtured him every day since then.

Who had no choice but to rely on the slippery memory of a small child, as one born of a lower class she had never been taught to write.

She soothingly combed her fingers through his soft hair and hummed a lullabye until he drifted back to sleep. Another deviation from the norm- she usually sang, but she couldn’t trust her voice not to break under the weight of her grief. Her fear.

Of all the regrets Link carried in his heart, one of the greatest was that he’d broken this promise. That he couldn’t remember the way, couldn’t even remember her name.

\---

Link hadn’t been the first to stumble into Hateno in the pale dawn after the Blood Moon, but he was the first to remember  _ before _ the mountain _.  _ It was rare, yes, but a couple of the locals throughout the small town’s history had also been Lost Ones- had also tore down the mountain once, naked and terrified, without the barest hint of a memory of what life had been before those dark, desperate moments of running, running,  _ running  _ away and away and away beneath a sky as red and thick as blood. What they ran to escape, and why, were lost, never to be recovered. 

The only other living Lost One, the kindly old greeter for the local inn, Leop, had accepted Link fairly early on and had treated the mute child as though he were no different from the locals up until his death. Lost One’s that had come before him had been consumed in the search for their past, or had grown distant and resentful, bitter with what they viewed as a half life. However, Leop had been satisfied with what he’d built for himself in the peaceful village. He felt no desire to unravel the mystery of his old life- if he’d even  _ had _ one before the fateful night he found himself clawing through the snow all those long years ago. He felt a second chance was not something to take for granted. He was one of the lucky ones- Not all of the Lost Ones made it to the village. 

Sometimes the local hunters would find bones deep, deep in the woods, brittle and grey, covered in moss and still curled tightly to conserve what little warmth they could. Hylian bones, usually, though he’d heard rumors of a few zora being found long ago, when the acolytes still came on the fourth year.

They would be burned without a name, the villagers gathered round in uneasy silence. There were no stories of this stranger to tell, no memories to share. But families would hold each other just a little bit tighter, friends would stand a bit closer, and no one would say it but everyone would  _ know.  _ Would try not to think of a short life of fear, of hunger and despair and bitter  _ cold. _

The ashes were buried with the other Lost Ones in the back of the local cemetery, a marker erected in their honour to put their restless soul at ease. Even if they were unknown they would not be forgotten. 

Stark, blank grave markers, somber black in neat little rows.

\---

Things finally started to work in his favour by the turn of the first week.

Kelar, another of the temple elders who loved Link almost as much as Jitto, pulled Oras to run errands for him after the storage room ‘incident’. The old priest made no effort to hide it was because he feared Link- the  _ outsider _ \- would corrupt the young acolyte’s impressionable mind. Call him into the service of wickedness or something. Whatever.

The hylian Champion had already more or less given up on being accepted by the zora. He had taken to foraging for his own meals after nearly coming to blows with the morning guards over whether or not he was allowed to eat in the dining hall.

Technically speaking, Link had never taken the same oaths as the acolytes therefore, technically speaking, the hylian had all the rights of a ghost wandering their grand halls.

The other guard had made sure to get in a petty little dig about how Link could only make about as much noise as a ghost too, because of course he would.

He’d half a mind to make that guard eat his own spear for the slight, but he couldn’t afford to be banished from the temple. Not until he had found the Princess- not until he’d freed Mipha from whatever terrible shackles bound her to this desolate place.

Which is why the loss of Oras needled him as much as it did. Without the young acolyte Link was left to wander the featureless halls of the imposing temple aimlessly, left to squint at closed marble doors and wonder if this, perhaps, was the library? Wine cellar? Secret dungeon of unspeakable horrors where they kept the forgotten/forbidden zora princess? Without his guide (and, if it wasn’t too presumptuous to assume, his friend) he was as good as lost. Which was becoming an infuriatingly familiar feeling over the past few days.

A storm had blown in from over the ocean during the night and had continued to rage throughout the day, meaning he didn’t even have the option of trying to track the corrupted Naydra.

Another day wasted.

He spent most of the day in his room, wrapped in a warm fur and sitting cross-legged on the table closest to the barely ajar door. He flipped through one of his tattered, dog eared books until he could smell the faintest whiff of aromatic smoke. The priests were burning the pungent, resinous wood their Goddess favoured somewhere deep in the belly of the temple, far past where Link was allowed to tread. The devout zora were conducting their evening prayers.

Which meant the dining hall would be empty.

Perfect. The grumbling from his stomach was edging beyond what he could ignore.

He snapped his old book shut and hopped up from his seat to stretch. Surely his hosts wouldn’t mind if he helped himself to some leftovers. They kept whatever was left of their evening meal in a covered pot off to the side of their grand hearth overnight to be thrown out by whoever was preparing breakfast the following morning. Really the morning crew should be thanking him for lightening their load.

He was surprised to find he wasn’t alone in his plan.

Not nearly as surprised as the young, blue scaled acolyte. She reeled back from the large earthenware pot with a frightened cry and dropped her partially filled dish to the ground.

He hooked a calloused thumb on his belt buckle and gave her (her name was Mekon, right?) a teasing little wave as she sputtered and tried to collect herself. Her attention snapped from him, to the mess on the floor, and back again, her tail whipping back and forth from the quick movements.

       “What are- oh, ah- you’re um, you’re mister- Oras’ friend, ah, mister…” Her shoulders bunched as she wrung her hands. “... Hero?”

He blinked slowly and gave the girl a tight lipped smile. He would much prefer ‘Link’, but he didn’t exactly have any way of letting her know that.

       “What are you doing here? The dining hall is off limits during evening prayers.” Her voice was a bit firmer after his silent affirmation. She was still far from an imposing figure. She was the shyest of the three young acolytes. Between her, Oras, and Litha, she seemed much more content with listening to the other two talk then chiming in herself. Out of the three she also made it abundantly clear she wanted the least to do with Link. However Oras had assured him that she was trustworthy. She just wanted to finish her studies at the Spring of Wisdom and return to Zora’s Domain to serve as a priestess closer to home with as little fuss as possible.

Link raised an eyebrow and gestured lazily back at her and the dish she had spilled on the ground.

Mekon’s shoulders sagged, her face and even her  _ tail  _ drooping with shame. She wordlessly crouched and began despondently scooping the mess off the floor back into her bowl. Once she finished her half hearted clean up and dumped the ruined meal into the grand hearth she stood with a heavy sigh.

       “Master Pele thinks I’m too fat.” She swallowed thickly and rubbed her thumb along the edge of her shallow bowl, her eyes carefully following the movement instead of meeting his gaze. “He thinks I’ve fallen victim to the extremes of indulgence and said I need to fast to realign my inner self and become closer to the Goddess but…” Her grip tightened on the small bowl. “I’m so hungry I can’t focus on my studies.” She chewed her lip. “It’s like my head is full of clouds. The passages I try to read slip right out of it, word by word, like raindrops. Nothing sticks.”

Link furrowed his brow and eyed up the young zora. Frankly he felt the elders weren’t exactly the best role models for maintaining a healthy weight- the lot of them were downright skeletal.

       “I could manage, or at least I’m sure I could, but…” Mekon swallowed thickly, her gaze flicking to meet the Champion’s for a miserable moment before sliding to his boots. “Master Jitto is tired of my poor performance… He said if I stumble or forget the words during the next Rite he’ll strip me of my title and ban me from performing in any more ceremonies. Ever. I’ll be sent beneath the floor to maintain the pipes until the snow thaws and they can send me home.”

Link hadn’t realized he was frowning until Mekon tried to face him again and wound up flinching back with a squeaked apology. The blue zora clutched her shallow bowl to her chest, ducked her head, and made to try and slip past him. He caught her arm, gently but firmly, and dragged her back into the dining hall despite her indignant protests.

Yes, she was a bit softer than Oras, but he certainly would  _ not  _ condone forcing a child to starve themselves.

It was the first time Mekon had seen the guest room. Link figured that, given the other zora’s inclination to avoid him, it was the least likely place the young acolyte would be caught breaking her fast. She drank in the thin, grey curtains covering the bed nooks and dull, scratched tables with wide golden eyes, like she was seeing something magical instead of mundane. She had watched, aghast, as Link hopped up to sit on the table with his own bowl of pilfered food. Had giggled softly, quietly delighted with the small break from decorum, when she climbed up to join him after discovering the distinct lack of proper chairs.

He had only brought it up as a way to make small talk, something to take poor Mekon’s mind off her fear of being caught. She jumped at every sound, her gaze whipping to the door as though she expected the entire council of elders to come barreling into the modest guest room at any moment.

_        -Pipes?-  _ He tilted his head inquisitively as he turned the glowing face of the sheikah slate towards the blue zora. She squinted and mouthed the word silently before giving him a flat, incredulous look. It only lasted a moment, then her eyes were widening in realization as she reeled back.

       “Oh! Forgive me, mister Hero, of course you’ve never seen the inner sanctum!” She sat up straight and cleared her throat. “There’s actually more than just this level to this old shrine. The elders that came here long before us decided they were unsafe and most of the entrances were sealed long, long ago. However, as you probably know, without access to water we zora would, well, die.”

Link blinked hard but otherwise kept his surprise carefully masked. No, he certainly had not known that. Mekon thankfully didn’t notice.

       “There’s an underground spring that used to flood some of the rooms in the lowest floor of the temple, so in the distant past the acolytes would have to make a dangerous trek to the deepest level and try to find some relief in the stale floodwater down there if they were unable to make the journey to the ocean. Well, back then spring still reliably came to these parts, so I guess the trip to Afromsia Coast wasn’t  _ as _  bad, but it was still a hard and dangerous life. So the 74th abbot, master Acanthias, planned out a massive undertaking: To install a series of pipes to pump the underground spring up to the main level and craft safe places for his devout acolytes to perform both their sacred cleansings and enjoy their daily lives. And install another set of pipes to drain the stale water away into the ocean. In the end they even managed to hook the pipes up to one of those Ancient Engines, so the water is even warm.”

Link wasn’t paying attention to the end of her explanation. His throat was dry, anticipation and excitement itching beneath his skin as he cleared his slate with a slow, purposeful calm. This could be it, this could finally be his in.

_        -What rooms do the pipes lead to?-  _

Mekon blinked in confusion then sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck.

       "Ah, I assume hylians need to take a bath every now and then too, right? Well, let’s see… You definitely won’t be allowed anywhere near any of the sacred pools, and I imagine no one will be very happy with you if you tried to bathe in the sleeping pools… Outside of that there are more shallow pools in the chorus room and the council hall. And the library, I suppose, but we already know you’re not allowed there. I think maybe the chorus room would be your best bet?” Mekon shrugged. “It’s worth asking at least, mister Hero.”

Link cleared his slate one last time for the night with a playful little flick, the small smile stretching across his scarred face was warm and nothing short of genuine.

_        -Just Link :) - _

\---

The fire burned low, the dying flames casting long, strange shadows across the formal dining room, twisting familiar lines into something vague and threatening. Link’s throat was tight, everything inside him felt tight and wretched. He didn’t know if he should hop off the woodpile where he had sat silently for as long as it took for the fire to burn down. He knew someone should put another log on the fire, but nanny was gone and his hands were still so small… He swallowed quietly and wished he had Teddy. He didn’t dare get up though, didn’t want to do anything to draw attention to himself.

Wide, innocent eyes stared imploringly at his father’s broad back. The proud captain of the royal guard had pulled his chair out and away from the table, had turned so he wouldn’t have to look at his son. His noble head was bowed, strong shoulders slumped, one elbow resting on the bare table, his other hand resting on his splayed leg, a half empty tankard held loosely in his fist, seemingly forgotten. Never before had his regal father looked so  _ old,  _ his eyes, the same striking blue as his only child’s, fixed silently on two empty chairs and an empty table.

Too wrapped up in mourning the family he’d wished he had to even bother looking at the family he had left.

It would make Link’s insides  _ burn  _ with bitterness many, many years later, as a grown man also too deep in his cups, but back then he had stared up at his father’s broad back in the dying light, and he’d been afraid of him, yes, but he’d also  _ loved _  him, loved him so dearly, from the depth of his being wanted to be just like him.

It was hard to carry the memory of that love and respect, the weight of that childish adoration, and know that his father had only ever seen Link as a cross he had to bear.

\---

It had taken a couple of days, but Link managed to find one of the sealed entrances Mekon had mentioned hidden behind an ancient rack of wine casks far in the back of the storage room. It had taken another to pry it open and construct a crude ladder- this task was made doubly hard considering the priest's unwillingness to provide him with another axe, so he was forced to work with only his Bomb Runes and an unquestionably disrespectful use of the legendary Master Sword. (Frankly it’s not like he was going to be using it for anything else.)

Thankfully soft spoken Mekon seemed to have a bit more sway over the council of elders then either he or poor Oras, and it wasn’t long until he was reunited with the young eel zora.

Oras chattered  away to him as he led him down uncharted hallways to the chorus room, their armed escourt’s dark, disapproving look silently shifting between the enthusiastic acolyte and the smug hylian. While Link was more than happy to pointedly ignore the guard, he did wish he could reply to Oras, who he was relieved seemed to be as excited to see him as he was to see the young zora again. His slate hung heavy on his hip, but his hands were full with the bag he had been stuffing his soiled clothes into, a cracked soap cake perched precariously on top of the pile and a clean(ish) cloth slung over his shoulder to dry off with.

It had been a good night. Not only did he get to wash the grime out of his hair and clothes, but Oras had been happy to give him a general layout of the temple.

It had taken a couple of nights worth of wandering through the pitch black beneath the floor with nothing but the glow of his slate to illuminate the ancient, leaking pipes that were his only guide in and out of the featureless, neglected lower level, but he eventually did it. He had found the library.

Now his search could finally, truly begin.

\---

It had taken a bit of finagling but he managed to crack the grate face open enough for him to squeeze around the rusted pipe into the shallow marble pool below with a loud splash. He flailed and sputtered in the tepid water as he groped for a ledge to pull himself out. He found his footing and ripped his wet bangs out of his eyes in time to hear a sickeningly familiar ring of sharp steel that made his blood run cold.

Fuck.

Oras had mentioned all the zora were supposed to follow the same curfew- hadn’t he?

Link raised his hands slowly to show he was unarmed and turned to meet the thin blade pointed at his neck, shining in the deep red of the low burning fire.

_ Fuck. _

       “You’re not supposed to be here.” The zora’s voice was low, unsure, as Link cautiously eyed up his opponent. He was  _ big,  _ easily head and shoulders taller than the morning guards. The water that lapped at Link’s armpits barely covered his waist. Oras had mentioned something about night guards. It would be just his luck to run into one on his very first attempt.

But no, the eel acolyte had also said they exclusively defended the council of elders. And this zora was clearly untrained. While he held the blade steadily enough his stance was all wrong. The sword was the wrong size for him as well, the ornamental scabbard clutched too tight in his other fist. His chest rose and fell at a quickened rate, golden eyes wide and unblinking beneath a broad, pointed crest- he was frightened. More prone to making mistakes. Link didn’t doubt he could disarm and subdue him without too much trouble if it came down to it. He’d rather not try and take him on in the water though. The large crimson zora could probably hold him beneath the surface and drown him with one hand if he wanted to. The zora’s eyes flicked from him to the loose grate and back.

       “Who are you?” Those golden eyes narrowed as he jabbed the point of his blade at the hylian, his cream lips pulling back into a snarl.

Hylia’s bountiful  _ tits _ , those  _ teeth.  _ Link didn’t know why he even bothered with the sword.

Link crossed his wrists and mimed loosely choking himself while shaking his head and slowly mouthed  _ -Can’t speak-  _

The zora tilted his head and eyed him suspiciously. Link carefully reached down and unhooked his slate. To his credit the shark zora didn’t attack him for the unprompted movement. If circumstances were different Link wouldn’t hesitate to use Stasis on his unsuspecting opponent. However, if he didn’t play this very, very carefully he might wind up exiled from the temple and barred from ever entering again. This wasn’t like battling his way through a monster encampment- he couldn’t really hack and slash his way through this one. His Fate was at this zora’s mercy. If he told the elders that Link was sneaking around the temple after curfew against their express wishes, well, fulfilling his childhood promise to Mipha would become a LOT more difficult.

Instead he clumsily wrote  _ -MUTE-  _ and showed it to the red acolyte. He blinked hard in surprise, but didn’t lower his blade.

       “What are you doing here? The library is off limits to outsiders.”

Ugh. ‘Outsiders’ again.

_        -Help Naydra- _

Now the zora froze, his eyes widening in shock.

       “What’s wrong with Naydra…? Is She… She’s not like… Dinraal…?” His voice softened, uncertain again. Link was surprised- he thought everyone knew what was going on with the divine Dragon. He shook his head.

        _-Sick-_ He turned the screen back to himself, cleared it with a quick swipe. He debated writing ' _ not dead' _  but thus far he hadn’t actually been able to confirm that.  _ -I can help-  _

       “Not to be rude,” Which was rich coming from the man holding a sword to his throat. “But how can someone like you help Her?”

        _-Don’t panic-_ The zora looked decidedly not comforted as Link hooked his slate on his hip and reached back to unsheathe his sword.

His opponent dropped his weapon with an unceremonious splash almost as soon at the golden firelight reflected brilliant silver off the unblemished steel of the Blade of Evil’s Bane, the sword seeming to glow from within in the low light. Both of the zora’s hands flew to cover his mouth as he reeled back a step in shock.

       “Is that-?” He floundered for words, his curiosity driving him a couple small steps closer. “I’ve only ever seen illustrations... “ His voice was soft with awe. His gaze snapped up from where it was transfixed on his blade to meet the hylian’s, his honey gold eyes bright in the low light. “If you can wield the Master Sword then you must be…” Link resheathed his blade with a small smile and a cheeky wink, like they were sharing some sort of intimate secret. It had the desired effect, the zora’s tail swaying slightly as his fists bunched against his chest. “ _ Hylia’s Chosen Hero.”  _ He barely breathed, his voice almost lost under the sound of the crackling fire and the musical trickle of water from the pipes.

Link hooked one thumb on his belt buckle and offered up a small wave with the other. He never thought he’d actually be relieved to have someone react this way to his Title. This was going swimmingly compared to pretty much every other interaction he’d had with an adult zora in this miserable place.

Link gestured back at the tall zora and tilted his head to imply he was asking a question.

       “Me?” He blinked in surprise, then seemed to catch himself. He drew back from where he’d leaned over the much smaller hylian and smoothed his hands down the rich blue sash that marked him an acolyte like Oras. “Oh, I just help in the library. Nothing nearly as exciting as a Hero of Legend.” Link didn’t know zoras could blush. “Please forgive my behaviour earlier, I was caught unawares.”

Link waved it off. He would have done the same if their positions were switched. Well, the same, but better.

It was probably for the best that he couldn’t say that.

Instead he pulled out his slate once again.

         _-Curfew?-_

The zora didn’t respond right away, instead he dipped down into the water to retrieve the sword he’d dropped and resheathed it with a surprisingly loud snap. He turned away from Link with a soft hum and carefully balanced the decorative blade back upon the hooks on the dark stone wall above the fireplace where he’d apparently grabbed it in the first place.

       “There are a few of us the curfew doesn’t apply to.” He said smoothly, with what felt like a practiced candor, his back still turned to the hylian. “Something to keep in mind if you plan to continue your night time explorations.” He turned to look back at Link with a mild, pleasant expression, his arms folding primly behind his back. It might have just been Link’s eyes playing tricks on him, but the zora’s eyes seemed too sharp in the flickering light. “My duty is to aide our aging Librarian out of sight from the other acolytes. The elders are a bit too proud to let it be known they aren’t as capable of running the temple as they once were. I assume, since you’ve been scurrying through our pipes like a mouse instead of using the door, you know full well how difficult some members of the council can be.”

Link rolled his eyes and nodded. 

        _-Secret Librarian-_

       “Something like that.” The zora’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, something bitter behind his carefully casual tone. The moment passed before Link could read too much into it. “If I may ask, what is your name, mister Hero?”

When Link turned the screen back to the zora he huffed a soft chuckle and rubbed the back of his long neck sheepishly, his gaze flicking away from the hylian’s.

       “Ah. Link, of course. I should have guessed.”

Like all the others.

Link nodded with a wry smile and pointed at the acolyte, tilting his head once again.

       “Oh! Of course! How rude of me. I’m terribly sorry, I’m not making the best first impression, am I?” Frankly it was a better impression then most of the other zora in this place. Minus the sword bit at least. The acolyte elegantly laid a hand over his chest, the other still folded respectfully behind his back, and bowed formally. “My name is Sidon. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Link.”

Link’s fingers moved almost unconsciously, shaping the letters of the night librarian’s name, curious to see how it would feel in his hand. He had certainly liked how his name had sounded on the zora’s lips, though he put a hard stop to that train of thought. He hadn’t thought anything of the action until he caught Sidon’s baffled look.

He shifted his grip on his slate, leaning it against his chest and balancing it on his palm to show the screen to the acolyte again. He awkwardly pointed in what he hoped was the general direction of each letter on the screen as he shaped the same letter with his free hand.

        _-L I N K_ -

Sidon’s face lit up with recognition and awe, much to Link’s relief, and he found himself being loomed over by an enthusiastic zora once again.

       “Amazing! I’ve read of a language of the hands, but I’ve never seen it used before. Tell me- these are letters, yes? Do you have to spell out everything?”

Link shook his head and cleared his slate.

        _-Dog-_ He slapped his thigh twice and snapped his fingers.

        _-Water-_ He shaped a ‘w’ and tapped his mouth.

        _-Fish-_ He mimed his hand swimming forward.

Sidon actually laughed with delight, his hands clasping in front of his chest.

       “Fascinating! You truly are a wonder, Link. Thank you for humoring me.” A shrewd look washed over his features and he drew back to lightly tap his chin with a long, curved claw. “Actually… Perhaps I could interest you in a proposition of sorts?”

Link slotted his slate back on his belt and planted his hands on his hips.

       “If you would be so kind as to teach me your…” He trailed off and clumsily signed  _ -L I S V-  _ which Link assumed was supposed to be his name. “I would be happy to help you find whatever it is you need here. No one knows this library as well as I, if I do say so myself.”

Link didn’t think twice before he nodded his agreement. He could work with that arrangement. It would probably be easier than trying to comb through the bookshelves by himself. He held out his hand to shake on it.

Sidon’s hands engulfed his, the force of his shake almost knocking Link off balance.

Sweet Hylia, the man was  _ huge. _

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written in honour of Sidlink week. It was originally for the prompt of 'Over the river and through the woods', but it wound up smooshing into 'Deepest depths' (and 'Sleeping with the fishes' fufufu). So here I am posting on the 'Free day'. 
> 
> This has been broken up into chapters because it's, uh, long. Way too long to be a one shot like I had originally intended. (And I need a bit more time to finish writing the last couple scenes T^T) The rest will be up ASAP. 
> 
> Also if I got any of the sign language wrong please let me know. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
